Writing History
by LouiseWolff
Summary: 25 years after the Dark Days, the Capitol organises its first Quarter Quell. However, there is a reason the 25th Hunger Games have been erased from history, along with its winner. OC's
1. District 11

**Hi guys and gals! I just want to introduce myself: I am an aspiring writer and I'm mad about the Hunger Games, which is a great shock to you, I know. *winks*  
Still, I want to warn you, if you haven't read the book (or book two) this story may be a bit difficult to understand.  
It takes place before and during the 25th Games, the first Quarter Quell.  
I hope you like it, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Therefore, I dis-claim. This applies to every chapter of this story.**

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I wipe my brow and squint my eyes against the reasonably warm sun, looking out over the freshly ploughed fields of district 11.**  
**We are just one of twelve districts, the thirteenth completely wiped out during the rebellion, 25 years ago. Each district is a characteristic source for the Capitol, like certain foods, raw materials or other products. We are agriculture, maintaining orchards, crops, fields of grain and cotton, stuff like that.

Everyone who lives here works, from child to elderly, but almost no-one reaches the age of 60 here, it's more likely to die of malnutrition. The children help after they've had school, which is mostly education about agriculture itself. And, of course, the daily crap about the Capitol and how it came to be and how good it is for the people.  
Nothing's said about the abuse we receive daily from the hands of peacekeepers, nothing's said about the fact that nearly all our food is transported to the Capitol and other district, leaving almost nothing to feed ourselves with.

I chuckle darkly, quite ironic actually, being the main food source while we're starving ourselves.  
Well, it's not like the Capitol cares, they show as much with the strict reign of the peacekeepers.  
There's a fence around the district, about thirty-five feet high and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire. Around the base there are metal plates to prevent people from digging underneath it.

We're more prisoners than farmers sometimes.  
There are even watchtowers placed on even intervals, manned with heavily armed guards. Not to mention the entire army of peacekeepers that patrols around the district every day, punishing people for the slightest crime. Just looking at them weird can earn you a whipping.**  
**I drag the plough probably reaching the hundredth mile today. Sweat pours down my forehead, my mouth parched and my head thumping. It has been a tiring day, which was common during, well, the entire year.

I feel like a machine sometimes, working all day and when it's summer a good part of the night too, going home to collapse on my bed and confirm that my snoring brothers and sisters are there again, just to get up early and start the routine all over again.  
It's worse in the summer, the weather's even warmer, reaching hot when we're unlucky.. The peacekeepers are always the worst when it's summer, I don't know why. I guess the weather makes them grumpy, patrolling all day long out in the heat, monitoring us as we blister our hands and feet.  
At least I don't have to carry the heavy sacks filled with crops or fruit to the storage or help them load the stuff into the train any more, I ensure that I never get close to that metal monster again.

Well, they have a better use for me in the trees anyway.  
I'm pretty tough, if I may say so myself. At least stronger than most of the girls my age. My muscles are sturdy and long, I can hold out hanging onto branches and climbing trees for an entire day without getting too tired, whereas most people needs at least two breaks each day.  
This doesn't work out in my favour however, the peacekeepers just keep me longer up in the trees. I don't really have much to go home too either, so I don't mind the work that much.

Yes, I have my brothers and sisters, but we barely talk. And if we do, well, it's mostly about the food shortage and the hard work.  
I'm the oldest of six, with three younger sisters and two younger brothers. All of them are working long days in the summer, at the orchards after school, climbing trees like I am. Now, in the winter, it's less, they only have to help seed the fields, which doesn't go on far into the night.  
We all know one thing though, we hate it, the life we have. We just don't talk about it, that's as good as a death sentence. Utter one word that defies the Capitol and the next thing you know there's a bullet in your head.

I caught the oldest of my brothers, Joshua, stealing once, before we could sign up for tesserae. I scolded him till my tongue was sore. The risk he was taking! I could still remember the look of agony on his face when they found out and took him to the square to be whipped.  
The image of his mutilated flesh was seared into my mind, I could never forget that day. He almost died, just inches away from death when they took him to one of the healers. He has never been the same since. The scars on his back cripple his movements, he can't climb the trees any more, he can barely even lift a sack of flour.  
If he hadn't been able to harvest wheat he'd been doomed. Lucky for him, holding a scythe and swinging it around to cut the sturdy stems of wheat is a thing he can manage.

Still, we never have enough food. We can all cook, and use even the most primitive means to fill our bellies. But still I need to sign up for the tesserae. Last year Joshua signed up as he turned thirteen, I wouldn't let him enter his name at twelve, I tried to stop him from doing it last year too. I found it was an impossible task to convince him that he couldn't do it. At least I could convince him to only sign up for himself.  
As his three year older sister, my name is in there forty-one times. Compared to most of my age I'm unlucky. (as our slightly insane tribute-escort would say: 'the odds aren't in your favour!') With the fact that our parents died when I was nine years old our income is below minimal, but nobody cares.  
Still, the odds are in no-ones favour here. Everyone has to participate, from age twelve to eighteen. At least my family is still safe, except for Joshua, whose name is in there four times.

But this year is different, I'm not sure how though. President Frost will tell us today. And that's why the whistle sounds earlier today, everyone is expected to watch the announcement. This year is the first Quarter Quell. The first time the Hunger Games will be 'more exiting' because of some sort of alteration.  
I lift the plough from the ground and begin carrying it to a shed. I dump it on the ground, not even bothering to clean it up properly.  
From all around me men, women and children make their way to the square. I'm lucky I don't have to spread seeds for crops, that way I don't have to walk that far to reach the more urban area of the district.

I flex my cramped fingers and stretch my back, despite my endurance a break is always welcome. Nobody really looks at me, and I know why.  
They say my parents had a very important role in the uprising during the Dark Days, and I've noticed the way they look at me and my brothers and sisters (or rather _don't__look_at us).

They're afraid.

Afraid that the peacekeepers punish them if they even look at me. I fact, I wonder why they let me walk around. Do they want to make an example out of me? Do they keep me around just to show the people that they are 'merciful', or is it a warning? Do they like to watch me and my family wither away slowly because of the lack of food?  
I don't know, I don't care. I don't want compassion so I don't mind the whispers and the fear. The fate of my family rest on my shoulders alone, and I refuse any help.  
I hate the people though, because they're so easily manipulated, cowering in their houses to avoid the wrath of the Capitol, cheering the peacekeepers on as they whip countless 'criminals'. It's sickening.

But I show nothing of it, I ask no questions and just do what I'm asked, I can't afford to die. My family needs me. I never show my emotions, something that even makes the most caring people steer clear of me.  
I wouldn't be surprised if people think I'm heartless, because maybe it's better like this. It hurts when my own sisters are afraid of me and my indifferent, cold demeanour. But I still fight for them, having relinquished the hope of approval or praise, because they don't understand.  
I just hope they never do.

I make my way through the wooden shacks that are scattered all around me now, finding one of many paths through the area. If there's a fire (which is not uncommon) an entire neighbourhood goes up in smoke in a matter of minutes.  
The peacekeepers have some kind of stuff they spray over the houses to prevent that from happening though. The Capitol won't like their main source of food burning to the ground, would they?

I quickly check the sagging shack that I call home and find the two youngest of my sisters, Valeria and Julia, sitting on their beds. If the makeshift mattresses on the ground can be called beds.  
"Where are the others?" I ask them.  
They look at me with those empty eyes, those aren't eyes for eight-year-olds to have, but **I **guess mine are even worse.  
"Not here yet." Julia says.  
It's sometimes hard to tell them apart, even for me. Valeria is just a little bit more childlike than Julia, who, in turn, is a few inches taller.  
I sit down up the mattress and scoot up next to them, silently throwing an arm around their shoulders. They lean into the embrace, despite their fear for me.  
Like that we wait for Joshua, Cessia and Fabian to arrive.

They walk through the door a few minutes later, their dark skin filthy from a week heavy labour and lack of proper washing.  
At home we don't have a television, so we were forced to go to the square and watch the announcement in public. I help Julia and Valeria to their feet, holding their hands and guiding them out of the house and to the main square. I glance behind me to confirm that my three other sibling are following, Fabian holding hands with Cessia and Joshua slightly limping.

These moment are rare, and they make me feel all weird inside. We barely get the chance to see each other all at the same time, often the only time that happens is during the Reaping, and that day is my least favourite of the year.  
Today is, in a way, not much different. The Capitol forces us to listen to an announcement about the Hunger Games, gathering us on the square.  
The only difference is that there was no-one leaving and never coming back, not yet anyway.

We reach the square and find that there already a fairly large crowd gathering around the huge screens that will show us the announcement.  
It's not long before the national anthem plays, the screens displaying the seal of the Capitol.  
The president enters the stage, followed by a young boy holding a wooden box. When the anthem ends she starts speaking in her strange Capitol-accent, showing her silvery, nearly sparkling teeth.  
She tells us about the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. She tells us about the laws that dictate that every 25 years there was to be a Quarter Quell, a glorified version of the Games to refresh the memory of those killed by the district's rebellion.

She then opens the box that the boy is holding, revealing a collection of yellow envelopes with numbers on it, the first one marked with a '25'.  
She opens the first envelope and reads its content out loud, "As a reminder to the rebels that their children are dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district will hold an election and vote on the tributes who will represent this year's Hunger Games."

She closes the envelope and descends the stage, the boy following behind her. The anthem plays again and when it finishes the entire square is silent.  
The silence is so agonizing that I wonder why my head doesn't explode. I'm not sure what I had expected to happen but it wasn't this, not in the least.  
This... this is worse than having your name drawn randomly from the reaping ball, this is pure cruelty. Forcing us to _choose_who goes out there to die?  
I'm tempted to scream, hit the nearest peacekeepers, incite another rebellion, _a__nything__._  
But I hold my ground and watch the reaction of the others.

Disgust, fear, shock and disbelief cross their faces all in one instant, leaving them empty and with even less hope than before.  
They can trust no-one any more, everyone has to vote, everyone has to betray someone, everyone has to write a death sentence.  
I squeeze Julia's and Valeria's hands reassuringly, but all I feel is empty. I walk home in a daze, not even checking if the rest is following, and weeks pass by in silence.  
People don't even speak to each other now, still trying to comprehend what all this means.

Somehow it makes me feel less alone, we are all in the same mess, and everyone treats each other the same, cold and distant, I am no longer an exception.  
I try to stop wondering who it will be, a painful feeling of dread has already settled in my stomach, I fear it will be me. But then who? Which one of the boys will it be?  
I don't know, I don't know them, I don't know what motivation people will have to pick someone, I do know that I'm the opposite of popular and if I had to choose... I'd pick the girl that nobody knows, nobody loves. That way the sense of loss when she dies is less worse...

But I'd feel guilty, I'd be disgusted by myself. But if I had to choose between guilt or loss...  
I just wonder who I will choose. I don't know people good enough to like or dislike them more than others. Maybe... maybe I could pick someone nobody would pick, that person would be safe even with my vote, right? Or maybe I should choose someone who is strong, someone who has a chance.

From that moment on I try my best to overhear the few conversations that occur between people, to get an image of who to choose.  
It is hard, since I never really learned people's names. I get the hang of it soon enough, sneaking around, even spying on the peacekeepers when I get the chance. I keep in the anger and disgust when I find them betting on people and ignore the fact that my name has come up a few times already.

I try to avoid the topic at home, at least four of us are still safe. Joshua is at risk since he is useless in the eyes of many people, I can only hope for some tiny spark of compassion for his situation, some distant feeling of dignity that prevents them from sending a crippled boy into the arena.  
Well, I never had much hope anyway, so I teach them how to trade, I ensure they sign up just for their own tessera, to reduce the chance of them being picked in the coming years. I help them improve their cooking skill and teach them harvesting tricks, I learn them sewing and carpeting, I learn them to rely on themselves instead of other people.  
_Like me__, _I think sometimes, but I tune out the thought fast enough.

Days, even weeks go by without leaving a trace, the Reaping closing in steadily and with an unhealthy speed.  
Every day means I'm closer to death, I have already accepted it is going to be me. And every day I feel more like I am choking.  
It's like time has made a huge leap and it's already the day before the Reaping. I try to fight down the sense of panic, but my hands shake and I mess up everything I do today.

I know my brothers and sisters notice my behaviour, but strong as they are, they don't mention a thing.  
A good part of the day I'm harvesting apples, throwing the red globes into baskets underneath the tree I'm in. But today nothing goes right and I miss half of the time. If someone were to check up on me they'd find a pile of bruised apples outside of the baskets, something that'd surely be enough to give me some kind of punishment for 'destroying property of the state'.

_Well fuck Panem, then!_I think, but I don't say it out loud.

After a while I give up and let myself fall from the branch I'm sitting on. I land on my feet but my knee is positioned awkwardly underneath me, sending a jolt of pain through the muscles in my right leg.  
"Shit." I curse under my breath and raise, stretching the leg.  
It's sprained, great.

I limp to the pile of apples and begin throwing them into the baskets, ignoring the stares of others who work nearby.  
I tune out the painful stabs in my knee when I move it and continue harvesting apples, climbing trees and carrying the baskets back to storage.  
At the end of the day I can barely walk and when I take a look at the knee the joint is a purplish blue and swollen. I curse underneath my breath, quickly covering the injury when Cessia walks in. She doesn't need more worries**.**

She looks weary and pale, despite her dark skin colour. We always look weary, but today she is worse than usual. Maybe it's because of the tension, everyone is blunt and high-strung today.

It's no wonder, today we have to vote.

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**Thanks for reading and if you have the time and desire, please do review!  
Next up: The reaping**


	2. The Reaping

We all join the long queues that wind their way through the streets, the people slowly shuffling forward to the square. Every mouth is a downcast line, every face is weary and bitter. I can't understand how the Capitol can rule like this, torturing its people so. Sure, they say it's to prevent another rebellion, but they're practically begging for one.

Some part of me knows that someday people aren't going to take it any more, someday they will rise and fight back. But I don't know when, all I can hope for is that it's going to be soon. I tell myself I just have to sit it out for a while, and just do what they ask of me. Still, I feel wrong deciding someone's fate, even if I don't know them. Now, after a lot of spying, weighing chances and tons of thinking, I finally have narrowed it down to four people.

There's Amanda Galeo, a cute little girl of twelve years old, surely nobody would pick her... She was too innocent and pure, everybody loved her. She'd be safe if I voted for her, right?

Then I could maybe vote on Anthony Galeo, Amanda's eighteen year old big brother. He's strong, at least three feet bigger than I am, length _and _width. He could have a chance, even if it's a slight one. But what gnaws at me is that if I vote on him, and others do too, Amanda will lose her big brother, her only protection.

I shake my head, I really hate this.

My third option is Dives Calidus. She's one of the wealthier people in the district and trained in fighting. Probably to give her an edge if she was chosen, all I know that she could do some wicked moves with the two curved short-swords she carried around. She would have a chance, I'm sure.

But there is one more option, Rufus Aquila. He's strong, not as strong as Anthony, but strong enough to survive on his own. He's a bully, conspiring with the peacekeepers, helping to identify people who committed 'crimes', sucking up to the Capitol. Everybody hates him, but nobody dares to oppose him, he's got the peacekeepers eating from his hand after all. The risk is, if he's chosen, the peacekeepers won't be happy, and that's not something we need, absolutely not.

These are my choices, none of them I like, but they're the best I can come up with. I don't know who my brothers and sisters are going to vote for, maybe it's best I don't know. The sick thing is, even Julia and Valeria have to vote, I mean, they're just kids! You can't demand such things of them! But then again, the world we live in is a harsh one.

As we slowly approach the square, my thoughts go over my options again and again. I discover that no matter who I choose, I will end up hating myself. So I decide to just jot down the first name that comes to mind when I'm there.

I can see the stage and the screens already. Suddenly two tiny, cold hands squeeze mine. I look down at Julia and Valeria, both pale and scared little girls. I feel all weird inside again and I stroke their dark hair. They both look up at me, surprised. They smile when I smile at them, it feels weird, like the muscles in my face aren't used to being used.

I look back at Cessia, Fabian and Joshua, who walk right behind us. Their faces show surprise when I smile at them too. I figure, since it's probably the last time I can make myself smile, I'd better do it, for them.

We're reaching the end of the queue, four black boxes made of a glossy material are positioned on even intervals on the square. Two for the girls, two for the boys. The queue splits in two when it reaches an intersection of ropes. It really looks like the Reaping, it gives me an uneasy feeling.

I pull Julia and Valeria with me, but we get separated from Cessia and Joshua, who join the other queue. Fabian is still behind us and Valeria releases my hand to take his.

It's sad and sweet at the same time. Sad because Fabian is just one year older, yet he has less hope than Valeria does. Sweet because their faces light up a little, it makes me feel funny again, these little kids holding hands to support each other.

Julia looks up to me too, with less empty eyes this time. It's strange, we're doing something despicable, something cruel. But somehow one smile made them hopeful... I decide that I would never underestimate the power of a smile again.

I reach the first box first and I'm forced to release Julia's hand. I take the pen, jot down a name, throw the paper in the box and walk away as quickly as I can, ignoring the painful protests of my now-probably-worse-than-sprained knee. I scribble down another name when I reach the second box, not even looking at the paper when I let it fall down the slot, ignoring the rows of peacekeepers that watch me go.

When I've put a good distance between me and the boxes, I wait for my family to join me. First comes Cessia, the eyebrows on her eleven year old face knit together when she sees me, and she comes running into my arms.

"I hate it!" she sobs.  
I wrap my arms around her, "Shh, not here."

Joshua and Julia have already joined us by the time she stops crying. She wipes her face, leaving clean streaks behind, but doesn't release me. Finally Valeria comes walking towards us, her face unreadable, and we all make our way back home.

We don't talk when we get home, we just go to sleep. Well, I don't sleep, I never do the night before the Reaping and tonight is even worse. I try to avoid thinking of the names I'd written down, I just hope I don't hear them tomorrow.

=''=

Morning comes but it's hard to get up. I haven't had any sleep and by the looks of my brothers and sister, they didn't either.

At last, I rise and dress. Afterwards I take two buckets to the tap and fill them with water. When I get back home they're all done, dressed in their best outfits (the only one we have apart with our working clothes) and sitting on their mattresses.

We clean our faces with the water in the buckets, and I empty them in a dusty groove behind our house. I search for the only comb we have and I begin with the impossible task to comb my hair and that of my sisters. My brother's hair is cropped short so it doesn't need any combing, but my sisters have the long dark hair that is wrapped in a bun or ponytail most of the time. Today we wear it loose. Julia's and Valeria's hair has the exact same length, reaching just beyond their shoulders. Cessia's hair is almost as long as mine, brushing the lower part of her back.

The only time of the year I really see it, is today. It's also one of the few times we take the effort of cleaning and combing it. Our family is a kind of exception, most of the women have curly or frizzy hair, while ours is completely straight.

The light already protrudes through the one window in the left wall, which means it's nearly noon. I quickly disentangle the last of Cessia's hair and then I usher them all outside. I throw the comb on one of the mattresses and don't even bother to lock the door, since we don't have a lock.

We hurry to the square, occasionally encountering other families with their best clothes on and cleaned faces surrounded by dark glossy hair. We're one of the last to reach the square, quickly joining the queues in the right roped area's. I join the cluster of seventeen-year-olds and Joshua joins the group of age fourteen. We file in, leaving a bloody fingerprint on a white square especially assigned for us.

Cessia, Fabian, Julia and Valeria have to join the crowds in the streets around the square. The population of our district is such a size that the square is reserved for the participants only, their families in the adjacent streets, following the entire thing on screens. If I had to estimate numbers, we had more than twenty-thousand people living in district 11, peacekeepers not included.

When all the children are signed in and positioned in the appropriate areas, the crowd grows silent. I throw Joshua one more reassuring smile, ignoring the thought that it's probably going to be my last**, **and then I focus on the wooden stage before us.

Instead of the usual see-through reaping balls, there are two black boxes like the ones we had to put our votes in yesterday. They must have counted over forty-thousand votes overnight, I can't help but admire such a feat.

My attention is drawn to a rather bony man ascending the stairs. His name is Carlo Quivera, the escort of the annual tributes. He's got golden hair that fans like a halo around his unhealthily pale face. He wears white gloves with golden swirls decorating each one of his fingers, his white suit with a low v-neck is made of a see-through material and reveals a golden and black trousers and shirt. His tie reflects the still-morning-sun with such ferocity it blinds me when I look directly at it. His Capitol-accent is clearly audible, but it doesn't hide the fact that he's from here, district 11. Gone over to the dark side. Nevertheless, if it's me today, he is one of the few people that will help me survive, although he has never succeeded in keeping our tributes alive.

That, however, rests on the shoulders of a rather short and plump woman. Don't be fooled, the plumpness is because of the impressive collection of muscles hidden underneath the long-sleeved midnight-blue dress, probably designed to make her look like a phoenix, but failing desperately if she so much as moves a muscle. I always forget her name, it's long and difficult, and I was never interested anyway.

Carlo Quivera has now reached the microphone and starts his never-ending speech about the Capitol and it's 'incredibility'. The tutor and the major (a greying ordinary-looking man) sit behind him looking bored beyond their wits. It's an unusual sight, the tutor I mean. She's supposed to worship the Capitol and the president, so why does she looks so infinitely bored during the speech each year?

Much later the major adds something about the uprising and the birth of the Hunger Games, shooting a few annoyed glances at Carlo whenever he tries to interrupt to add a very important detail that really can't be overlooked.

The major is actually obligated to read our list of winners out loud, but since we haven't won the Games even once in 25 years, he just skips the non-existent list.  
The whole things is actually quite silly, maybe even funny, if it weren't for the constant feeling of doom hanging only inches above our heads.

Finally, speech-time is over, and Carlo rises to his feet (wrapped in a pair of ugly golden sandals) and walks over to the mic.  
"Well, all is said, but nothing's done yet!" he says cheerily, waving his hands as if he is addressing a very lively and enthusiastic audience.  
"Let's get going then, oh and, may the odds be _ever _in you favour!" he says. He then darts to one of the black boxes and opens it. He takes a small white envelope out of it and nearly hops back to the mic.  
"Ladies first." he says, flashing a wide grin of golden teeth.

The moment of opening the envelope seems to go on forever, the children holding in their breaths, the sick feeling in my stomach growing and growing. And then, finally, his voice tears the tension apart.

"With exactly 1021 votes... the female tribute of this year has become, Aelia Merula!"

It takes a while for me to comprehend. 1021 votes? That's less than one-twentieth of the population! And then it hits me... I was right, it's me.

They all look at me now, after seventeen years of ignoring everybody looks at me. I can't help but wonder who voted for me, but somehow I can't feel the hate I want to feel. I'm numb, empty. I look at Joshua and he looks back, his eyes beyond desperate.

As I make my way through the crowd to the stage, I don't look down but I meet everyone's eyes. I try to look accusing, I try to make them feel ashamed, but really I'm just completely paralysed inside.

Carlo beckons me with his creepy golden smile while two peacekeepers grab my arms and force me to increase my tempo, causing the pain in my swollen knee to increase.

As I ascend the stage I'm greeted by thousands of eyes aimed at me, I just look at them impassively while Carlo congratulates me. He then darts over the the other box, cheerily announcing he's going to read the male tribute's name out loud right now.

"With exactly 2136 votes, this year's male tribute will be... Joshua Marula!"

Someone punches me in the stomach and all the air is knocked out of me, but there's no-one near me. My head is reeling, _it can't be_.  
There's no way, just no way that this is happening! They can't send us both! Our family will die, _we _will die! I watch as my younger brother makes his way to the middle, stumbling through the crowd of people.

And now I don't feel numb any more, I look at them with a fire in my eyes, my hatred growing beyond control. The only thing stopping me is a large warm hand on my shoulder. I don't even look who it is, I just curl my fingers into a fist and dig my nails in the calloused skin of my own hands. I grit my teeth with incredible force as Joshua climbs the stage with great effort, the major quickly helping him up when it's clear he can't do it on his own.

"Why, what a special turn of events. I'd bet one of my teeth you're brother and sister, am I right?" Carlo says exited while darting around me.

I glare at him with such force I see his eternal smile waver, but when he turns to the audience it's back full-force.

"Well, it's almost a conspiracy!" he jokes. To my surprise, the silent crowd gives him the same death-glare I just directed at him.

Now he's really out of his element, finishing quickly with another "Happy Hunger Games!" and then he's gone, not even shaking our hands.

Joshua finally reaches me and I wrap my arms around him, my chin of the crown of his head. Like that I look into the crowd.

I am unforgiving.

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**Thanks for reading and if you have the time and desire, please do review!  
Next up: Saying goodbye to district 11**


	3. A bittersweet goodbye

**Hello hello, welcome back! I just wanted to say that I won't be posting much on any of my accounts for a while, since I have my finals in about two weeks...yay...**

**Well, it doesn't really stop me from writing, does it? *innocent smile***

**Enjoy, do enjoy... :D**

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I sit in the room, nervously tapping the rough wood of the chair beneath me. I fight down the urge to run through the door in front of me and just go away, somewhere safe, somewhere nobody can find me.

But I know it's impossible, there's not one place unknown to the Capitol, if they wanted to find me, they would. Despite that knowledge I can't sit still and begin pacing feverishly around the unfamiliar room.

It seems forever when the door opens, revealing Cessia, Fabian, Valeria and Julia. They all run at me and I gasp at the force with which they cling to me. I bite on my lip to suppress the tears, remembering my promise never to cry.

We stay like that for a few silent minutes, the occasional sob coming from one of my sisters. But I know our time is limited, and I have to say something. Something that will give them strength, something that can keep them alive after I'm gone.

"Listen to me." I say, my voice breaking.

I swallow and kneel before them, gritting my teeth when my knee begins to protest, four young scared faces staring at me.

"I need you to be strong, okay?" I tell them, "don't believe anything the Capitol tells you. Don't let anything that happens on those screens get to you, even if- " I hesitate and then continue, "I love you and if I die I will still watch over you, okay?"

They nod with watery eyes, Cessia casting down her eyes when I look at her intently. She knows what this means, she's the oldest now. I hate to admit it, but now she has to become the new me, taking care of her brother and sisters no matter what.

"Just remember I love you." I say softly, hugging each of them, trying not to sound desperate.

Two peacekeepers burst through the door, forcing them away from me. Julia and Valeria cry out my name and Fabian looks like he's ready to vomit. But the most heartbreaking is the look of complete despair on Cessia's face.

I give her the best reassuring smile I can manage just before the door closes, wordlessly saying that she can do it, that's she's strong enough, that I trust her.

I just hope it's enough.

The door closes with a final thud and I collapse into the chair, covering my face in my hands. I don't know if I can stay sane much longer, with this whirlwind of emotions tearing at my insides.

A knock sounds and I look up from my hands, rising from the chair when I see the door open. I have just enough time to wonder who this could be, when a young woman walks in. I recognize her, she's helping with the nursery, I always saw her when I picked up Julia, Valeria and Fabian when they were still toddlers. I wonder why she's here though.

I stare at her surprised and she seems a little uncomfortable.

"I- I just wanted to say... I'll take care of them." she stutters, but nods fiercely.

My mouth falls open at these words, did she really just...?  
She gives me a small smile and one last look before she goes back through the door.

I stand there, shaking, relief flooding through me. They aren't alone. My family isn't alone...

Before I can think or feel anything else, the door opens again, this time revealing an old man. I recognize him too, I've seen him scurrying around the market quite a few times, talking to himself. I always wondered how he had survived past the average age while he seemed a bit... crazy.

He looks at me for a few moments before speaking, his voice is rough but strong, not the voice I expected with such a fragile old man.

"Fate has a cruel way of repeating itself, doesn't it?" he says.

I just stare at him, uncomprehending.

"I knew your folks back in the day, good folks they were."

Now I really stare at him with big eyes, too baffled to speak.

"Yes, yes. Good folks they were."

A million questions battle around in my head, fighting for being spoken aloud. In the end, the only thing I can muster is, "is it true?"

He looks at me amused, but turns serious immediately, "dear girl, you'd have done them proud, the strength you show against them."  
I nod at this confirmation, he may not have said it literally, but his words were clear enough.

"Don't count yourself out, girl. It's in your blood to fight." he says then, a fierce look in his eyes. He almost grows, looking younger, stronger, until changing back into the weary old man in front of me.

His words confuse me, was he saying that he thought I had a chance? That's not possible, he knew the Games. They were relentless, leaving just one of 24 alive. And he said I could be that one? I shook my head, it's not possible, I won't leave my brother to die.

"That boy... he's strong too, but he's no fighter, not any more." the old man mutters to himself while turning around.  
"What?" I say, not sure if I had heard that right.  
"You're the fighter" he says, not even looking back when he scurries through the door.

Soon, others come walking through, promising to take care of my family, saying they are sorry for me. Some of them I don't even know, still they tell me stories about how I am so much like my parents, that they were honourable people back in the day, when they were still alive. I don't understand why they say such things, they are taking a huge risk, praising rebels from the Dark Days within earshot of the peacekeepers. It doesn't stop them though.

When the last walks out the door I slump back into the chair, shaking my head, disbelief flooding through me.

This was a very strange day. I can't even begin to understand everything that had happened. There was one huge contradiction happening here. They chose me, but now they come to me to tell me... to tell me what, that I can win? That they'd help my family after doing this to them in the first place?  
Don't get me wrong, I am grateful, though I still can't believe that it is true, that people actually care. Well, they care about my family, enough to not let them starve at least. And they cared about my parents, friends they say they were.

I snort, not friends enough to show any recognition to their daughter until she's doomed to die, by their own hands!

I'm not granted very much time alone before more peacekeepers come in, taking me outside to a vehicle I recognize to be a car. I can see it's already noon by the position of the sun, high above my head. I had been in there longer than I thought.

It's a half an hour ride to the station, but the entire way there are people waiting alongside the road, watching us when we ride by. I can't remember that ever happening the past times and I'm almost grateful. But then I remember they sent my brother with me, and I hate them all over again. At that moment I'm official swearing to myself to get him out alive, even if it meant sacrificing myself.

I help my brother out of the car and as we walk towards the train I ignore the camera's and try not to limp too much. I don't care about the audience, I don't care about the Capitol. All I care about is getting my brother out of here.

I know that he's going to protest, it's what he does. He always wants the opposite of what I want. But I have to convince him somehow, I wasn't going to leave him to die. I could never.

I glance at the screens showing our faces and barely recognize the girl they show. We don't have a mirror at home so I could never really look at myself. The only times I could was when I washed my face, my distorted features staring back at me from the water's surface.

The expression on the girl's face is a mix of anxiety and anger, even through the dirt it's clearly visible. Quickly I force myself to look indifferent, showing no emotion at all. Still, camera's have seen it, recorded it.

I can't afford to show any weakness any more, not if I want to get my brother out.

I hold his hand when we climb the metal steps, helping him up when his back bothers him. I still can't believe that they really did it, sending a crippled boy into the arena.  
I send an annoyed glance towards the woman-whose-name-I-always-forget when she takes a hold of Joshua's arm to help him up.

Nobody touches him, not without my consent. They don't deserve to touch him.  
She receives my hostile glare with indifference, only releasing Joshua's arm when he's in the train, safe and sound.

We stand in the doorway for a few seconds, granting the reporters their last images.

I take one look back at the district, flashing camera's of news reporters block most of my sight, but I can still see the cluster of farmers, young and old, that stand a little separated from the exited bustle just before the metal doors.

They don't look happy, but when do they ever? To be honest, I don't know if I hate them any more. They did come to me, promised to protect my family. But then they had sent me here together with my brother? I hold back the confusion from my face and keep it indifferent.

Perhaps they feel bad for voting on me and want to ease guilt by showing support, well, it doesn't matter. I will have to do this, alone. I won't gain anything from their support or their pity any more, even if it's genuine.

The doors close before my eyes, sliding together with no sound at all. My last glimpse of the sunlit fields of wheat and the dusty wooden shacks of district 11 leaves me feeling surprisingly sorrowful. Even if I hated the life, the people, everything. It was _my _life, _my _home. And I was never coming back.

A slight jerk of the train indicates we're leaving, gliding along the rails with such smoothness I wonder if this feels like flying.

"Come on, I'll show you around." the nameless woman says. I almost hit her square in the jaw, having totally forgotten that she was there.

She notices my jumpiness and shoots me a surprised look, she makes no comment however and gestures at a glass door that slides open to reveal a very strange room. I immediately see that this room is worth more than I could gather in a lifetime. I try hard to fight down the wonder and the urge to touch everything. My faces must have shown it though, because the nameless woman immediately offers us something to eat.

Joshua eyes the colourful sweets and pastries with longing. I sigh, I don't like the idea of him getting lost to all these riches, but he might as well while he still has the chance.

Even I am tempted to taste one of the mouthwatering dishes laid out on silver platters. The soft cushioned chairs are also very inviting.  
The woman sits down in one of them, so I figure it can't harm to test if the chairs are as soft and heavenly as they look.  
I can barely fight down the content sigh when I sink into the cushions, Joshua in turn groans relieved when he falls down on a couch, snuggling deep into the beige material.

The woman is clearly amused by this, which makes me feel angry all of a sudden.

She doesn't know the hardships of life in district 11, and now she laughs because we've never known such comfort!

"Is something funny?" I challenge her, the strain on my voice clearly audible.

She looks at me, her amusement gone, but she says nothing.

"Well? Do you think it's funny we're going to our glorified funeral?" I spit at her.  
"If it's up to me you're going to a glorified victory." she replies.

I narrow my eyes, what is she implying?

"You mean we can win?" Joshua says hopefully, trying to sit straight but grimacing when the strain is too much on his back.  
"One of you can." she says, switching her gaze between me and Joshua.

He slumps back into the couch in defeat.

"I know it's hard, but you can't give up." she tries, but it only infuriates me more.  
"You're basically saying one of us has to kill the other to win!" I yell at her, jumping up from my seat, grabbing the corner of a cabinet to prevent myself from falling. My knee has officially given up on me.  
"No, I'm saying that you have a chance of winning. It's my job to lead your district to victory."  
"I could care less about my damn district! They left me and my brother to die, do you think for a second that I want to win for _them_!" I shake my head in disbelief, completely forgetting this morning.  
"Then win for your family!" she yells now, rising from her seat too, the ridiculous dress making it hard for me to take her seriously.

I clench my jaw, closing my eyes to fight the panic that surfaces with the mention of my family. Are they okay? How are they handling it? Is Cessia strong enough?

"Isn't it worth trying, at least? For you family?" she says softly, urging.

I release a shuddering sigh and curl my fingers into a fist, I try resisting but I can't help but see the truth in her arguments.

"I can't-" I start loudly but then I cut myself off.  
"I can't leave my brother to die." I say softly.  
"You have to, Ellie. You know I can't take care of them like you do." Joshua says, looking at the ground.  
"I'm not leaving you to die!" I yell at him, but I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at the woman in front of me who tells me to kill my own brother. I'm angry at my district for choosing Joshua. I'm angry at the Capitol for doing this to all those families, every single year.

I quickly walk away from the two of them, leaning on every surface I come near, the door on the other side of the coupé opening as I approach it. Carlo comes walking through, back to his cheery self. He does look a little baffled when I limp past him with a hostile snarl on my face.

I don't care that I don't know where my room is, I just go somewhere. I'm surprised I am even able to move, since I've never been on a train with the likes of this before.

There was one time when I was twelve. I had been working a long day, eager to get home and pick up Fabian, Valeria and Julia, who were still toddlers then, from the nursery. Since I couldn't take care of them, like so many parents who had to work all day while they had babies, I brought them to the nursery every morning and picked them up every evening. I already loved them, I loved them the moment they were born. Even when mother died giving birth to the twins... I still loved them and cared for them the best I could.

That day was no different, I thought. I was loading heavy sacks filled with grain into one of the rusty wagons, I was down to the last one when I heard scurrying noises from inside the train.

I went inside to look and found a miserable excuse for a rabbit. It had been locked up in there for a while from the looks of it. I pitied it, so I tried to catch it.  
The next thing I knew it went completely dark. To top it all off, the ground began moving, well, the train did.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I was terrified. I had been locked up in the train, with the sole company of a meagre rabbit. The poor animal was shivering when I finally got hold of it.

I held on to it the entire night, a good part of the morning too. When they found me we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by things called mountains, though I had never seen anything like them.

The machinist only found me after I had been banging against the door for a good half an hour. Exhausted and weak from roughly two days without food and water I travelled with him to the nearest station.

I was lucky, had it been the peacekeepers that found me I would have been beaten beyond recognition. The machinist however, managed to smuggle me into another train that was going back to the district.

Those were a scary two days, perhaps the scariest of my life. Every time we stopped on the way back I feared to be found by the peacekeepers who checked every inch of the train. I'm still surprised they didn't find me then.

I was so incredibly relieved when I returned to the district, I can't remember ever being happier to see the worn faces caked with dirt and the hunched backs of the people of district 11.

When I returned home they were all waiting for me, Joshua, who was still healthy then, had picked up Fabian, Valeria and Julia from the crèche and had tried to care for them with the help of Cessia. They actually cried when they saw me, they never cried, not even the three-year-old twins.

I promised I would never leave. I promised to keep them safe as long as I lived.

It seems that I broke that promise, because this train carries me further and further away from them every breath I take.

I lean against the nearest wall, then slide down because now both my legs aren't capable of holding me any more. I bury my face in my hands but I don't cry.  
I swore I would never cry. And I swear it again, not even when I look death in the face. I will not grant the Capitol the pleasure.  
I won't allow my last moments to be those of weakness, I can't do that to my family. I promised to protect them, if that means holding my tears, I will do that.  
If it means killing others-

I sigh, the only way to keep them safe... is winning this thing.

* * *

**Next up: Dat Capitol! **

**I'm having a little stylish problem but I'm sure I'll sort it out... I _am _supposed to be a woman after all ) I'm just gonna blame Mother Nature if I fail... **

**Well, enough ranting, let's study!**


	4. Hot chocolate and tactics

**A/N: So I finally finished this chapter! My muse has returned! Well, temporarily... anyway I hope you enjoy the chapter ^^ (Unbeta'd though, sorry)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the hunger games, if I did I'd have an ego reaching beyond the mount Everest. But I don't.**

* * *

I wake up in a strange and very soft bed. In fact, I feel like I'm lying on clouds. Of course that's impossible, but it _feels_ like it. I slowly open my eyes, savouring the feeling. Soon, too soon, I remember where I am, what had happened. I shoot upright and take in my surroundings.

By the soft rocking of the room I can tell I'm still on the train. I'm lying on a bed, an _actual bed_ with a wooden frame, sagging slightly under the weight of my body.  
The room is filled with expensive-looking furniture, decorations and stuff I don't know which category they belong to. The colour gold seems to be dominant, which makes me suspect Carlo had a hand in decorating it.

I wonder who it was that had carried me here, but I realize it's not important. What's important is that I find my brother and convince him that he's the one going home, that I will protect him and fight for him and die for him.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and drop myself on the soft golden carpet. My feet sink in a disturbing few inches, as if I've landed in quicksand. Lucky me, the only thing this carpet has in common with quicksand is the colour.

I make my way over to the bathroom adjacent to the room I slept in (it says so handily on a sign) and eye the shiny construction in front of me with suspicion.  
I know what it is, of course, but I've never actually seen one. Now I have the chance to shower, _really _shower. Not throwing a bucket of cold water over my head but actually _shower_.

I test one of the buttons inside the cabin and immediately boiling hot water starts raining down, burning the skin on my arm. With a cry of surprise I jerk it back and give the button a death glare. Soon, however, I test out all the buttons (eventually choking on the amount of perfume in the air) and find a combination I can work with.

The warm water is lovely, together with a kind of soap smelling like lavender. The scent makes me think of spring, there'd be fields of those purple flowers everywhere you'd look. You can smell them all the way in the centre of the district.

It washes away the memories of the harsh winter and the colourless days of working underneath looming cumulus clouds, picking and chopping at the dry ground below.  
Now, as I breathe it in, I calm down a little, it clears my thoughts. The sense of imminent doom fades a little and the muscles that had even been tense while I slept, relax.  
I take as long as I dare to but eventually stop the flow of water. I'm forced to open a window to get some fresh air into the room, since every time I take a breath I breathe in water and perfume and have to cough.

I notice the change in landscape, we're riding in between mountains covered with green and lush forests instead of the flat farmland that I'm used to. I can even see the occasional waterfall and rock-formations made of different shades of grey, red and brown, things I've only seen on pictures at school.

I go back into the bedroom and rummage through the closets and drawers until I find a decent outfit that isn't too much like the extreme colourful Capitol stuff. It consists of a pair of narrow black slacks over which I wear a black blouse together with a midnight-blue jacket that reflects the light a little.

I marvel a little at how clean I feel, cleaner than I've ever been, that's for certain.

I figure it's time I search for my brother, if I won't get lost, that is.

I make my way through the train and eventually find the coupé I had run out of the other day. The woman-whose-name-I-still-don't-know sits there, together with Carlo and my brother, the table they're sitting behind overflowing with food.

They stare at me when I enter the room, and I in turn stare at Joshua. He's almost glowing, his skin smooth and clean. He's wearing some kind of suit made of the same material as my jacket, midnight blue.

I immediately think it suits him, and that he looks like dad. _Really _looks like dad.

He blinks a few times before he breaks into a grin, startling me.

"You look good, sister." he says.

I can't help but smile at his grin. He has dimples, I never saw.

"So do you, little brother." I say.

"Oh my." someone says with a high voice. That would be Carlo, who is staring at me with eyes as big as the cupcakes in front of him.

The-woman-whose-name-is-a-mystery just smiles as I make my way over to the table, blushing furiously with all those eyes trained at me. Then my stomach decides it's time to break the awkward silence and produces a loud growl, causing Joshua to snicker a little. I hadn't even noticed I was hungry.

"Try the soup." the woman helps, still smiling at me.

I glare at her, mostly because I'm embarrassed, but accept her offer. I reach out for a bowl and fill it to the brim with delicious-smelling steaming liquid. I grab a spoon and scoop up some of the soup, ignoring that it burns my mouth. It's good, there are all kinds of vegetables in it, even pieces of meat.

When I'm done with the soup I give up my decency and dig in, taking pieces of everything, all the while observed by a slightly disgusted Carlo and an amused still-nameless woman. My brother ignores me, he's too busy trying to chew down a chunk of bread that's too big to fit in his mouth.

"What's your name anyway?" I manage through my chewing.

She looks at me surprised and then sighs, "Christabelle Hemingwaysmitheringale-Foster."

I choke on my sandwich and Joshua barely manages to hold in the brown stuff he is drinking.

"You're kidding." I exclaim after I manage to swallow the bread.

The woman sighs, "I'm afraid not. Though I prefer you call me Christa."

I nod weakly and focus back on my sandwich, forcing down the grin that threatens to materialize on my face.. Joshua however isn't as subtle and bursts out in laughter. I'm just grateful she isn't wearing that ridiculous dress any more, I'm not sure if I had managed to stay indifferent if that had been the case. Still, I can't help the smile on my face when I see my brother laugh.

"You two should really smile more, you appear much friendlier." Carlo broke through, an enthusiastic look on his face.

No doubt he meant it as a compliment, but I can't help but feel offended. He has everything, he is never hungry, he never needs to worry about how to survive the next day, yet he has the nerve to tell us to smile more?

The rare smile is wiped from my face and I try hard to focus on my food to prevent myself from punching him.

Carlo now looks confused, not understanding what he did wrong.

"It's true, right?" he says hopefully, looking around for confirmation.

"Carlo..." Christa sighs.

"What did I do wrong?" he says, clearly oblivious to the whole thing.

"Nothing, Carlo. They're just tired." Christa says, she would've fooled no-one but somehow Carlo looks relieved.

I'm surprised that she covers for us. And I suddenly realise that Christa understands, she knows. Of course, she's originally from our district. With the start of the Games there were no victors yet, nobody to play mentor. The major fixed that by choosing a mentor in each district, whose job was to guide the tributes until the district had a victor to take over the job. And well... since our district hasn't won even once in 25 years, we're still stuck with this pawn of the Capitol. I wonder where she lives though. I realise the only time I ever see her is on Reaping day, the rest of the year she's just... gone. Does that means she lives in the Capitol now?

I look up and study her. She's from the Capitol alright, with the too-smooth skin, overdone make-up and strange clothing. But she's nothing compared to Carlo, she almost seems modest next to him. She returns my stare indifferently, almost as if she dares me to ask the million questions that are bouncing around in my head. I don't do her the favour though, and decide to try the steaming brown stuff my brother drank earlier. My eyes widen at the rich taste, I don't remember ever tasting something better than this.

"What's this?" I ask no-one in particular.

"It's hot chocolate, naturally." Carlo says, wondering why I even asked that question.

"Chocolate?" I ask them, I never heard of the word.

"It's a kind of candy, made mainly of milk and cacao." Christa explains.

"That's what we grow! But that stuff is so bitter, how is it so sweet here?" I exclaim.

"The milk and the sugar improve the taste." she smiles.

I shrug and take another sip, it tastes so different from the seeds we grow, that I still can't believe it's the same stuff.

Suddenly the light that shone through the windows of the train disappears. I look up in shock, wondering what happened, but Christa smiles assuringly.

"It's just a tunnel."

I nod understanding, we are going through a mountain. It is a strange thought that thousands of tons of stone and earth are directly above my head. It makes my stomach twist a little uneasy. Luckily it's not long before we exit the tunnel and natural light floods through the windows again.

"So what's our tactic?" my brother says, glancing between me and Christa. I sigh but she smiles encouragingly.

"As you know there are two parts to the Games. The first is the parade, the training and the interviews, the second is the Games themselves." she begins. Me and Joshua listen intently, she is our mentor after all.

"In the first part we'll have to concentrate on getting sponsors. Your tactic how to get them is to your choosing, but I recommend playing nice," she looks intently at me, "and win the hearts of the people."

"So it's a smile and wave game?" Joshua asks, dimples in his cheeks.

"In a way, yes. But the how the other tributes will see you is also important. Do you want them to think you're weak or strong? Do you want to intimidate them or deceive them? Do what suits you best, but trying to make alliances beforehand would be smart. Having allies is a virtue in the arena, but don't trust them too much, only one can win after all."

I eagerly take all this in, only ignoring the last part, and take a look at all my options. Appearing weak has it's advantages, but disadvantages too. While people will underestimate you, you're more likely to be hunted down. Being intimidating makes it less likely to be hunted, but people will likely form an alliance to bring you down, and that would be bad. Very bad.

I also have a little brother to protect, which is a huge problem considering his back. Somehow I need to ensure he isn't a target and I realize the best way to do that is show them not to mess with him, in _any_ way. This also solves the problem of my strategy, I have to appear strong. I wonder what Joshua will do though, I'm sure he won't just agree with me, he never does.

"I'm gonna need a wheelchair." he says suddenly.

"What?" I exclaim baffled.

"A wheelchair, they have to think I can't walk any more." he explains impatiently.

"You'll trick them into thinking you're weak," Christa nods approvingly. "It's a smart strategy considering your condition."

I glare at her but either she ignores it or doesn't notice me. Joshua however throws me a look that begs me to stop protecting him, and for once I hold my tongue.

"And you?" she turns to me.

"I'll be strong, I show them that messing with my little brother is very unhealthy." I say without showing any emotion.

"I think you'll do just fine," Christa smiles amused, then switches to a stern look, "But remember, get the audience to like you."

"Yes, ma'am." I mock her, but she seems satisfied by my answer.

"Carlo," she turns towards the golden figure that had been sitting silently on his chair like a neglected sun, "how much time before we reach the Capitol?"

I suddenly get very nervous, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, the bad kind. Joshua however throws his head behind his head and leans backwards on his chair, wincing when he stretches his back too far.

"Exactly three-point-six hours." he chatters, happy with the attention.

"Thanks Carlo." she says, smiling grateful. "You two should get some sleep before we arrive, it'll be a long day."

I nod and get up desperately trying to remember where exactly my bedroom was again. I refuse to ask Carlo or Christa, there's only so much beating my pride can get in one day. So I just leave through the door and start wandering around the train, ignoring the fact that it seems completely empty aside from us four.

I finally find my room but I don't go to sleep, my body is way too restless and my brain is still playing different scenarios over and over in my head.

What will the arena look like? Who will the other tributes be? And oh god, the stylist... I hope we don't get one who thinks dressing us as trees or apples is the newest fashion. And the interview, what will I say? Will the audience like me? Will we get sponsors? And most importantly, what will I do during the training? I'm good at climbing, but I've never really fought before. Hopefully I have some hidden talent at archery or sword fighting, it wasn't likely, but I can't rely solely on my climbing skills, I mean, what if the arena was a desert? Or a lake? I'd be dead within a day... not to mention Joshua.

God this is so fucked up.

I never asked for this, no-one ever asked for this. What were those people thinking? Are they really hoping for me to win this thing, they know I won't let my brother die! They don't know if I can fight, hell, _I_ don't even know if I can!

Could I kill someone to protect my brother? Yes.

Could I kill someone to protect myself? I suppose.

Could I kill someone to win the Games? No. I'm not planning to turn into that kind of monster. The ones the Capitol create.

I walk over to one of the windows and watch the landscape flash by. It's hard, but worrying about everything isn't going to help me, I tell myself. I'm going to play nice with the audience, if I even know how to play nice. All I've done in my life is survive, by fighting for my life, not by playing nice and hoping other people will do the job for me.

But that isn't going to cut it now, so I'm going to be the nicest, bright, young, _giggling _girl that the audience loves.  
I sigh.  
Well, hell.

At least I will be able to balance it with being over-protective about my brother and punching everyone in the face who so much as looks at him. That part, I think, I'm going to enjoy.

A small smile dances at my lips, but it vanishes when the train rides into an open space, revealing the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. My jaw all but drops as I see the fantastic collection of tall buildings, curved bridges and flourishing parks. And all I can see is just a small part of the entire city, and it's _huge_.

So this is it. The centre of all our suffering. The Capitol.

* * *

**For the next chapters I'll get some help from my friend who is kind of a pro in clothing (you know... the parade, the interview, it all needs to be perfect!) so we'll be working at Ellie's and Joshua's outfits, the other tributes will get their fair share too don't worry ;)**

**Until then!**


End file.
